Picasso Youth Mask
youth glazed
green brown
clay framed red
absorb emotion
features contort
experiences run
brow flat lip twist
nose master hairline
forehead eyebrows sight
hair to neck curve straight
above eyes below hairline
world will raw face stiff chin
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Moustache Hairline Pride Manhood
eyes wide clear blue sight green emotions
eyebrows absorb nose firm moustache hairline pride
lips sorrow swallow unvoiced ripple emotions
chin fixed quake firms horizon set resolution applied
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Supremacy is the beauty
Chubby lips, plump cheeks, massive breasts, fleshy buttocks,
Blunt nose, hairy skin, coarse hair and black eyes
Are the features the Dravidians inherited from the Negros.
Thin lips, flat cheeks, rounded breasts, slated buttocks,
Long nose, pale skin, silky hair and brown eyes
Are the features Aryan inherited from the White race.
Aryans are held beautiful by their cultural supremacy.
30.11.2000, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Degradation of a race
Black hair, black skin, black eyes,
Square face, square teeth, square chin,
Fleshy breasts, fleshy back and fleshy lips
Are features of Dravidian descendents.
Pale hair, pale skin, pale eyes,
Long face, long teeth, long nose,
Thin chest, thin locks and thin lips
Are features of Aryan descendents.
The former is flesh eating, lustful,
Emotion ridden and industrious.
The latter is grass-eating, lust tamed,
Manoeuvring and goal conscious.
Siva, Parvathi, Kali with Asuras
Are portrayed with Dravidian features.
Rama, Krishna, Lakshmi, Sarasvathi
With devas are of Aryan features.
All Itikas, Puranas and Epics depict thus.
They are held as holy scriptures
By both the races alike.
08.10.2000, Paralkemundi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Harry's Circumcision
Looking in the mirror Harry didn't like what he saw
The cheeks of his mother the eyes of his father
As each day crashed around him the future stood revealed
He was turning into his parents
The final disappointment
Stepping out of the shower Harry stared at himself
His hairline receding the slight overbite
He picked up the razor to begin his shaving
and thought oh I wish I was different
I wish I was stronger I wish I was thinner
I wish I didn't have this nose
These ears that stick out remind me of my father
and I don't want to be reminded at all
The final disappointment
Harry looked into the mirror thinking of Vincent Van Gogh
and with a quick swipe lopped off his nose
And happy with that he made a slice where his chin was
He's always wanted a dimple
The end of all illusion
Then peering down straight between his legs
Harry thought of the range of possibilities
A new face a new life no memories of the past
and slit his throat from ear to ear
Harry woke up with a cough the stitches made his wince
A doctor smiled at him from somewhere across the room
Son we saved your life but you'll never look the same
And when he heard that, Harry had to laugh
Although it hurt Harry had to laugh
The final disappointment
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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for JJ....
strictly speaking
by my own standards you fall short
of beauty: thick lips,
chipped cheek bones,
poke marks,
falling hair, receding hairline,
short feet, chunky hands,
unaligned eyebrows,
less eyelashes,
but look at you in the mirror
those cat eyes
looking for birds
of prey
ever ready to fight for
your rights
and the rights of the
marginalized, the oppressed
the poor and weak
by all means,
whatever physical defects you have
resetting standards,
now, i must agree
you are the repository of
invincible beauty
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Harrys Circumcision - Reverie Gone Astray
Looking in the mirror
Harry didnt like what he saw
The cheeks of his mother, the eyes of his father
As each day crashed around him
The future stood revealed
He was turning into his parents
The final disappointment
Stepping out of the shower
Harry stared at himself
His hairline receding, the slight overbite
He picked up the razor to begin his shaving and thought -
- oh, I wish I was different
I wish I was stronger
I wish I was thinner
I wish I didnt have this nose
These ears that stick out remind me of my father
And I dont want to be reminded at all
The final disappointment
Harry looked in the mirror thinking of vincent van gogh
And with a quick swipe lopped off his nose
And happy with that he made a slice where his chin was
Hed always wanted a dimple
The end of all illusion
Then peering down straight between his legs
Harry thought of the range of possibilities
A new face, a new life, no memories of the past
And slit his throat from ear to ear
Harry woke up with a cough
The stitches made him wince
A doctor smiled at him from
Somewhere across the room
Son, we saved your life
But youll never look the same
And when he heard that
Harry had to laugh
And when he heard that
Harry had to laugh
Although it hurt harry had to laugh
The final disappointment
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sick
Sick 'I cannot go to school today,'
Said little Peggy Ann McKay.
'I have the measles and the mumps,
A gash, a rash and purple bumps.
My mouth is wet, my throat is dry,
I'm going blind in my right eye.
My tonsils are as big as rocks,
I've counted sixteen chicken pox
And there's one more - that's seventeen,
And don't you think my face looks green?
My leg is cut, my eyes are blue -
It might be instamatic flu.
I cough and sneeze and gasp and choke,
I'm sure that my left leg is broke -
My hip hurts when I move my chin,
My belly button's caving in,
My back is wrenched, my ankle's sprained,
My 'pendix pains each time it rains.
My nose is cold, my toes are numb,
I have a sliver in my thumb.
My neck is stiff, my spine is weak,
I hardly whisper when I speak.
My tongue is filling up my mouth,
I think my hair is falling out.
My elbow's bent, my spine ain't straight,
My temperature is one-o-eight.
My brain is shrunk, I cannot hear,
There is a hole inside my ear.
I have a hangnail, and my heart is -
what? What's that? What's that you say?
You say today is ... Saturday?
G'bye, I'm going out to play!'
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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Release From Static Crap
This may be a bit too hot for you!
Those who expect a less than spicy brew.
But the cook perfers to have you sweat!
Believing it's the heat,
That loosens up the neck!
And we all have seen a stiff neck unrelaxed!
Walking like a duck with a straight flat back!
What appreciation for life...
Does someone who is stuck up like that,
Have for reality?
When they act stuck up...
Like something is up their butt!
This may be a bit too hot for you!
Those who expect a less than spicy brew.
But the cook perfers to have you sweat!
Believing it's the heat,
That loosens up the neck!
And we all have seen a stiff neck unrelaxed!
Walking like a duck with a straight flat back!
Pretending they know 'all' when they are way off track!
These folks create tensions!
And today we need less...
People feeling tensed and prepared for attack!
Sit back and welcome something different on your journey!
Something different on your map that doesn't offer views that trap!
Especially when it's needed to release from static crap!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Putting a Face on Love
Secretly,
I'd often wonder
what you saw
when you looked
at me...
Did you see silvered
lengths of hair and
time-worn skin
stretched thin
with living,
or did you see youth
dressed in black tresses
with eyes of green
laughing,
softly,
at life's
irony...
and I'd always realize,
if love had a face
it would be yours ~
every contour,
curve, and shadow
searing my memory
with radiant
light ~
burning their imprint
upon my skin
with eyes of
brown.
poem by Hazelmarie Elliott
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Be Glad Your Nose is on Your Face
Be glad your nose is on your face,
not pasted on some other place,
for if it were where it is not,
you might dislike your nose a lot.
Imagine if your precious nose
were sandwiched in between your toes,
that clearly would not be a treat,
for you'd be forced to smell your feet.
Your nose would be a source of dread
were it attached atop your head,
it soon would drive you to despair,
forever tickled by your hair.
Within your ear, your nose would be
an absolute catastrophe,
for when you were obliged to sneeze,
your brain would rattle from the breeze.
Your nose, instead, through thick and thin,
remains between your eyes and chin,
not pasted on some other place--
be glad your nose is on your face!
poem by Jack Prelutsky
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She Is Homely
she is homely
heavy legs, dead toenails,
crooked limbs, thick lips,
round eyes like a
soccer ball,
twisted, twitching face,
wild eyebrows,
entangled hair,
rough skin,
flat nose,
by all means she
is not like the rest
who are lovable
but i know you noble
man loving a
betty la fea,
for if you do not love
her,
who may ever can?
thanks to you.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A strong brow, bedroom eyes, a bump on the nose – these are the features that inspire me. Beauty isn’t about looking perfect. It’s about celebrating your individuality.
quote by Bobbi Brown
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Teenage Sculpture Emotional Overture
teenage sculpture
emotional overture
written green blue
dye experiences true
colours fabric twist shape
gape ego flesh scrape
face youth reality rape
escape cape lesson tape
youth soul flame learnin
heart within glaze burtin
face of teenager eyes life
mold lesson realities strife
poem by Terence George Craddock
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It really costs me a lot emotionally to watch myself on screen. I think of myself, and feel like I'm quite young, and then I look at this old man with the baggy chins and the tired eyes and the receding hairline and all that.
quote by Gene Hackman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Saw, Or Dreamed I Saw
I saw, or dreamed I saw, her sitting lone,
Her neck bent like a swan's, her brown eyes thrown
On some sweet poem -- his, I think, who sings
|Oenone, or the hapless Maud: no rings
Flashed from the dainty fingers, which held back
Her beautiful blonde hair. Ah! would these black
Locks of mine own were mingling with it now,
And these warm lips were pressed against her brow!
And, as she turned a page, methought I heard --
Hush! could it be? -- a faintly murmured word,
It was so softly dwelt on -- such a smile
Played on her brow and wreathed her lip the while
That my heart leaped to hear it, and a flame
Burned on my forehead -- Sa'ra! -- 't was my name.
poem by Henry Timrod
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Lines:
I saw, or dreamed I saw, her sitting lone,
Her neck bent like a swan's, her brown eyes thrown
On some sweet poem -- his, I think, who sings
|Oenone, or the hapless Maud: no rings
Flashed from the dainty fingers, which held back
Her beautiful blonde hair. Ah! would these black
Locks of mine own were mingling with it now,
And these warm lips were pressed against her brow!
And, as she turned a page, methought I heard --
Hush! could it be? -- a faintly murmured word,
It was so softly dwelt on -- such a smile
Played on her brow and wreathed her lip the while
That my heart leaped to hear it, and a flame
Burned on my forehead -- Sa'ra! -- 't was my name.
poem by Henry Timrod
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Better lose hair than head
Better ‘tis to lose hair than thine head,
As is between butter and bare bread;
If not a thing comes fair
Today, how can be hair?
So hail heads that bare are— bald, not dead!
____________________________________________
There is one thing worse, they say, than having a
bald pate— to be defensive, curse your fate. I was
not yet thirty when my hair began to be grey though
not thin. This was perhaps Nature's way of balancing
things as my face had badly tanned by the time I was
in my ‘teens. As the years added themselves to my
age the contrast only widened. But it was much
after I retired from paid work, the hairline began to
recede a bit. After all, a balance must be maintained.
This little ditty sums up my philosophy on hair.
________________________________________ ____________
-Tongue-in-cheek | 01.04.12 |
poem by Aniruddha Pathak
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Nose
No one cares for the nose
To go nose straight is the tao
If there were no eyes
You could see better with your nose
If there were no nose
you wouldnot distinguish the sweet from the bitter
And there would be no value judgements in the world
And it is the nose that keeps you hot in the cold
And that keeps you cold in Jakodabad
The nose is the vigilant customs officer
That does not allow any drug to your lungs
And the nose cannot be bribed
Oh Nose! the customs officer of the body
And the pivot of value judgement in the world
If that name thou love
Remain with us and teach the noseless world
That it must have a nose in this wartorn world
He who knows the greatness of nose
Surely goes to the realm of rose
In the life to come
Hurrah Let us compose hymns to nose
poem by Dr. Ramesh Chandra Mukhopadhyaya
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Hurricane Watch
Green. Green the leaves,
and waves gray on the forehead of the beach.
As easy as breeze tensing lengths of hair
waves lift, then snap back like springs.
Trees bend and kneel, fling out brown arms
to catch their running children.
Green. Green the leaves, and wind
pours on the forehead of the beach.
See how sand wrinkles in the lee,
and anchors part like lovers
from invisible chains. Ships break
then run their length to freedom.
Green. Green the weeds,
and sea foams on the forehead of the beach.
Women’s names swim to greet the waves.
And sea sings, “Eve. Eve. Eve.” Mermaid
who set her cap for them, she beckons each
figurehead to her pale and smiling reach.
Green. Green the waves,
and spray glistening on the forehead of the beach.
Her arms catch and embrace hulls like shoulders.
Bold as dolphins they leap to her lips before she
slaps away the face of any sailor so foolish.
Gray. Gray the waves, and flotsam
in pieces grinding on the wet stones of the beach.
poem by Val Morehouse
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View upon entering Philly
receding steeples
the hairline of God
haiku by Warren Falcon
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